


Come Back

by orphan_account



Category: True Crime - Fandom
Genre: Death, Developing Relationship, Loss, M/M, One Shot, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: What's more difficult... trusting someone or losing someone completely?
Relationships: Jeffrey dahmer/victim
Kudos: 9





	Come Back

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a depiction, an idea of what may have occurred in Jeffrey Dahmer's only relationship with Hughes. I didn't mention a name during writing as I wasn't comfortable doing so and it felt like the right thing to leave out. Hope you like the read! :)

"Stay here." I told him. He would read my lips as I would let go of his hand, it was a long walk north of where we stood but not too far out of sight as I approached the food stand in the distance. For a few seconds I would keep him in sight up until I was speaking to the boy I ever approached the stand for originally. The other I was with would shift foot to foot; hands shoved off into his jacket pockets with a look of upset resting in dark lines within his relatively kinder features. One look from anybody would have them speculate that he was either uncomfortable or, if knowing our situation, perhaps even jealous. Whenever I left the stand with a single hot dog, warm and sprinkled with a bit of mustard, I found him again with a smile and extended the food in kind. "Here. Thanks for listening to me this time." The male would grin almost sheepishly and take the food without a word. 

I would watch as he bit into the hot dog graciously, consumed with how careful he had been and the expression he wore on his face whenever he finally swallowed what he did take. "Is it good?" I asked him while his eyes were on the ground, only receiving a confused stare when I shifted closer. "Is... it... good?" I articulated with a small gesture to my bottom lip and in turn, he would smile again only this time more fondly. That was enough for me. Taking hold of his arm, I began to guide him outside and into the parking lot without a word; his feet scuffling after mine that took a more rushing intent to lead him towards the passenger side. Unlocking the doors, I would let go of him and point to the one door in particular. 'IN' I would mouth and receive that of a grim, taut frown from him. Holding the door open, I let go of his arm and gestured one more time for him to get inside before he actually had meanwhile, stuffing a barely used napkin in my other hand into my jeans pocket.

It was after that that I'd take the both of us back home and as I am closing the door, I hear him taking off his shoes and walking into the living room. I'm watching the back of his head now and I can't see his eyes but I can feel how he's sitting there comfortably without me; slumped over a bit into a tired position. I guess we wouldn't be holding one another close tonight or so I believed. Taking from the door, I removed my jacket from off of me and hung it up where it belonged on the wall, seeking the couch secondly to sit down beside him in the train of silence aside from the racking nerves. Finally, he leans forward for a small notepad and pencil; scribbling something down that I wasn't trying to read while I was watching the other couch in front of me that was empty and vacant. It was in that moment I realized how long it's been since I was sitting opposite someone else.

The notepad was placed into my lap and I'd look down, seeing the bold letters speaking out to me. With parted lips, I held in a breath and took the pencil from out from between his fingers and hesitant would begin to write back. 

'IT'S NOTHING'

I handed the paper back to him for him to read. His distinct frown met mine and I turned my head away to look back towards the other couch. The sound of scribbling and he would repeat the final action again and I would read it:

'YOU SAID HONESTY'

Honesty. I lowly grunted, and closed the paper with a final statement:

'I wasn't interested in him, I just wanted to buy you a hot dog'.

Wondering why I closed the paper by folding it atop the others, I watched out the corner of my eye as he slowly peeked inside with a shake of his head, he had wrote me back.

'Then why didn't you eat?'

'Because I'm not all that hungry', I returned with.

'Why not?'

'Does it matter?'

'You normally eat'

'Leftovers, preferably'

'That's weird. It's never stopped you before' He wrote back, that's whenever I paused and thought about the napkin I shoved into my pocket earlier. I couldn't reply with none other than:

'stop asking me so many questions'.

'Then show me you haven't changed your mind about me'.

I stopped writing anything back and leaned over towards the table to toss the pad and pencil back down where they belong. Shifting in the seat, I leaned forward to kiss him passionately on the mouth and he tasted like an assortment of minced meat with a hint of spices that he was already wearing before we left. The scent strong and alluring, a reminder that I haven't eaten frightfully in a day or two. He complained once that I felt like bones, too thin to be masculine but I didn't care about his opinion, or the judgmental mind. At least, he kissed me like he wanted me and I only kissed him as if to appease him. There was a lot of discomfort in my stomach, and it wasn't butterflies or arousal though that's never stopped me from feeling aroused before- whether he was a complete stranger or someone I've only been dating now for forty-five hours. When we ended up in the bedroom, I felt powerless, and suddenly I was the one exhausted. What once was being settled on my knees had eventually led to me being settled on my stomach, watching towards the dark curtains and what remainder of the evening sun threatened to peel through.

There was an animal in his rapid breathing down my neck as the pain stretching me open eased a few displeased grunts out of me. My own breathing was slow and my body was loose, I couldn't say that this was the best position to be in on my behalf however I had felt put into a place of where I had no other option- one wrong choice could leave me alone because he would have walked out that door. Although I suspected he wouldn't if I declined being the submissive, it still was a thought I couldn't bear all together, losing him in any way. After he came inside of me, I laid there for a few minutes imagining the few times I got away with doing the same to those who couldn't remember me ever doing it at all. The mess I had made of them and the mess I had to clean of them. Instead, now, both parties were very much here and very much in tune with what just happened aside from the fact my cheek was buried inside of an unclean pillowcase now for ten to fifteen minutes straight and I could smell the metallic aftertaste of blood both in my mouth and in the cotton.

It was a first for me.

He crawled up alongside me and wrapped his arm around my back as though I were dead, I didn't give any sort of attention back to him; the bright orange sun disappearing from view. My arms stayed down at my sides and my ass bare to the ceiling fan spinning in circles as I became swept underneath the sudden urge for a shower. I took from him and sauntered for the bathroom to do just that. And then the day after, I awoke from the sound of shuffling going on within the room. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, and I was thinking about how normal this felt- waking up, seeing him getting dressed for work and at the same time, I'm smiling despite the ache. I reach out with my hand and wrap my fingers around his ankle while he stops for just a second from tying his shoelaces. Looking over at me, I see the familiar frown on his face and my brows lower flatly as my face loses all emotion. 'What's wrong' I mouth to him, in which case, he shakes his head.

Once, then twice.

'Please. Tell me.' 

He makes a stand from the bed and leaves for the living room. Stifling a yawn, I almost do the same but was stopped at the bedroom door. He's handing me the pencil and notepad which read:

'I'm sad that I have to go'

I write back:

'Go?'

His milky brown eyes meet mine briefly and he nods.

'Why?'

He writes me back:

'Not going to work, I'm going to church where I'm supposed to meet up with mom and leave for the week. I'll see you again this weekend.'

A lump caught in my throat, and I was upset about this. It wasn't all that much the idea all together. He could go, he could meet his mom, he could stay for the week- that of what didn't bother me too much. It was that it'd been then that I had trouble trusting him, I realized. The napkin in my jeans pocket, did he get to see it while I was asleep? More selfishly, didn't I make him happy last night? Was I enough? If he's that curious, I would tell him about the napkin, but I don't think I could trust him with that bit of information either- especially when talking to one another could often be this hard. Still, I felt unsatisfied and unworthy in ways I couldn't exactly pin point. That could explain why I suddenly stormed right by him in my boxers and let my back fall onto the door; locking it with one hand and guarding it with the other.

He makes this gesture like... 'move out of my way'. He was going to be late and I didn't care, I didn't think about how much I was acting like my own Mother right then. Regret to say that I didn't like when my mom acted out and I've been seeing that in me a lot lately, like right now, when he could be out enjoying his time with a mom that probably treats him right while I'd be stuck getting the receiving end of a dial tone when my mom refused to answer. Move. His arm told me to move again and so I did. I risked it, and he turned around to watch me head off into the bedroom and the sad part about it was, he wasn't too bothered to have not unlocked the door but he only got so far before he found the floor and not the hall that would have taken him back downstairs.

My head was throbbing, my eyes were blurry with tears and as I am looking down at him I'm thinking: 'What a shame'. What a shame. What a shame. At the same time, I'm not blaming myself for bringing him down, I'm bringing him down with exclaiming that it was his fault. He couldn't hear me, he couldn't respond, and for the longest moment I wanted him more now than I ever did because I snapped when what I wanted was comfort and the ability to actually trust him. Three days more wouldn't be too much longer to have him around. I cried, not because of selfish pity, but because I was losing him anyway when what I should have done was wait to see if he'd ever come back around to me.

If he would have come back.

Now, he never would.


End file.
